


Half-Shaped Resolve

by GooseWhiskers



Series: Hey Look, Blue Soup! [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood and Injury, Depression, Gen, Interrupted Self-Harm, Malnutrition, Secret Injury, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump, passive self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 20:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseWhiskers/pseuds/GooseWhiskers
Summary: The postwar world can be savage, bitter enough to wear anyone down to the bone. Stripped of all he held dear and with no end to the nightmare in sight, Nate's lost sense of what he's fighting for - and tries to keep a dangerous secret from his traveling companion.Written for Whumptober day 24, "Secret Injury"





	Half-Shaped Resolve

Nate bowed over an unhinged sink, and it seemed surprising that such cracked porcelain could sustain the weight of his burdens. He stared at a tarnished mirror drooping abjectly from the peeling wall. You couldn’t see much through it. Only a hazy image, a Picassoed reflection of life before, and the man he used to be. 

Shrugging off his dirty vest, Nate grimaced and paused to take a swig of Gwinnett before unbuttoning his oxford, to get a look at the damage. Bruised ribs jutted out like the skeletal rebars of a ruined house. Oily-looking red oozed beneath, a memento from the Psycho-addict now dead in the room across the hall. Nate blinked languidly. Another fight. Another day where he lived, and a stranger didn’t, in a world torn to pieces. 

It didn’t seem right.

He watched his wound bleed. A half-dozen sores and scrapes framed it. Some were fresh, others lingered. He was so tired. Walking through a familiar dream but unable to remember what came next. How many more fights like this did he have in him? 

Another swallow of lukewarm beer. The sharpened screwdriver had gone deep and stung fiercely. Enough to make him sick. Breathing _ached_. But analgesics were hard to come by in the Commonwealth. Med-X remained too precious a commodity, and he wouldn’t waste it on pain that didn’t matter. _None of this matters._

_Always, always tired. _

In the absence of adrenaline, a sucking, sepulchral _blank_ness dragged over him. And the wound kept dripping. Blooming red amidst weeping grey. Nate stared, tepid. This was a serious injury. He should clean it. Bind it. 

There was satisfaction in the deliberate choice to do nothing. 

More alcohol. 

Self-imposed stupor competed against self-imposed agony. Neither held a candle to self-loathing, which loomed beyond his control. 

_Let it bleed._ Inside and out. He’d rather pretend it didn’t exist. He’d rather it burn till he writhed in torment. He’d rather - he’d rather -

“Hey, you okay in there?” Piper called from out of sight. “Not being held hostage or anything, right?”

_I’d rather **what?**_ Another swallow. “I’m fine. Just need a minute.” He whistled low for emphasis, their signal that all was indeed clear and nobody stood at knifepoint.

He hovered over the bowed sink a moment longer. Gaunt lines and dull eyes stared back. Not a stranger. Just an unwelcome guest. God, he needed something stronger to drink. Red drizzled onto the floor. 

But Piper would grow impatient, soon. Might come snooping. Through a malevolent haze, Nate scrubbed a dirty dishrag over the blood and pressed hard until pain chewed through his confusion. He counted out the seconds, twice to be sure, and then tossed the tainted scrap into a dark corner and struggled to put his shirt back on. It was stained and badly torn, but if he buttoned his vest there would be no reason to see what lay beneath.

_It will keep bleeding._ Inside if not without. 

He cared just enough to not care at all. 

\-------

“Let’s go.” Nate announced abruptly, shuffling out of the decrepit lavatory, past Piper, into the hall. 

She smirked, a little bewildered by the change of pace, and made to follow. “Was starting to think I needed to come in and check on you.”

“I-_i_ don’t think you’d have enjoyed the view.” He pitched back with a mirthless attempt at a smile. He lifted the Gwinnett to his lips. 

Piper blinked. “Got enough to share?” 

Nate hesitated. A little longer than she would’ve liked. Then extended the bottle. “Sure.”

It was almost empty. He’d only opened it a short while ago. When they stopped to clean up after the firefight. “Psh, sorry I asked.” She scrutinized him clandestinely, driven by the faint prod of uncertain suspicion. Nate didn’t limp, though he looked like he wanted to. Maybe not unusual. _Maybe…_ but - 

She handed the bottle back as they walked and leaned into the motion, nudging him playfully. He winced, tugging his vest down and shuffling away from the contact discreetly. Not discreetly enough to escape her notice. 

Piper cut in front of him. “Blue, what is that?” She demanded sharply.

“...What’s what?” A poor attempt at indifference or distraction. He wouldn’t look her in the eye, his vision hovered to the left of her. 

She darted forward, snatching at the front of his vest and yanking it up before he could react.

Piper’s throat tightened. The tear went straight through his white shirt - and deeper. It was a _red_ shirt now, tattered and glistening wet. _A lot of blood._ Kept secret. “I dunno, _that,_ maybe?_”_ She snapped in a thready voice. 

Tugging her hand away, his lips curled into an uncomfortable grimace and he averted his gaze further still. “That lunatic in the cloth hood shivved me. It stings but it looks worse than it is.”

“_Right,_ cause a gaping hole in the gut is no big deal. Just slap some gauze on there and take a stimpack to the knee?” Piper’s lip curled, and she moved towards him again.

Nate shuffled back, tightening his vest over the site. 

“Did he hit you in head, too?” She huffed. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Uh, yeah,_ it matters_.” She stared at him with appalled intensity. Confusion. Uncertainty. Disbelief. Even without all the pieces of the puzzle, she could see the makings of an image she didn’t like. “Blue, why were you even _trying_ to hide it? There’s nothing heroic about _bleeding_ to death.” 

Nate blinked deliberately, something in his posture reminding her of a mirelurk hiding under its shell.

“C’mon, I’ve got something in my pack we can clean it with. And you’re still holding onto that tape, aren’t you? I’ve got some rags. We can wrap it up until we reach a doctor.” Piper rifled through her satchel, teeth gritted. Her hands trembled faintly.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been leery of posting this one, it's a lot more personal than most of what I put out there. And though writing about this part of Nate's story inevitably brings out some painful retrospection for me, it's comforting to know he makes it through these darker hours to much better days ahead.


End file.
